Ethics
by Maurelle
Summary: For pre-med student Toshior Hitsugaya general ethics was supposed to be easy, but with things in his private life dissolving and the introduction of a teacher like Ichigo Kurosaki he made be in even more need of the class. Ethics are subjective afterall.


Toshiro glared down at the freshly printed paper in his hands. He was in his second year of pre-med at Tokyo University an had just been informed that in order for him to take the required medical ethics class he needed to take general ethics. This would not be such a bad thing if it wasn't for one simple fact: he was sixteen. As such he had a hard enough time getting his teachers and fellow students to take him seriously. General ethics he knew would be a nightmare seeing as most psychologists claimed that his brain was still developing and unable to fully grasp the ethical issues in their complexities. It was a bunch of bullshit in his opinion, but he knew it would be reflected in his grade.

But the class was required, so the changes to his carefully crafted schedule had been made, giving him a night classes when he would have preferred a day. Just about the only good thing to come out of it was the fact that the class was tiny, barely ten students. The teacher was an adjunct too, teaching the class to add to his income.

So, Toshiro sat, bored in the too large lecture hall, in front and to the middle. It was the seat he took in every class and as usual o one saw fit to fill the seats next to him. He could hardly help the fact that he found most people too dumb and they saw him as too young. Just as Hitsugaya was beginning to count the seven minute rule (if the teacher was seven minutes late, class was cancelled) the door opened. Two things hit Toshiro as the teacher nervously made his excuses to the class: he was very young and very attractive. He had bright orange hair (there was no way you could actually call it red when it was that shade) with amber colored eyes and a body that spoke of some kind of martial arts training.

"I'll be your teacher for general ethics, Ichigo Kurosaki. This should be a fairly easy class assuming you participate, take the tests, and write the papers. I'm not here to grade your ethics or morals, but to see you understand what lies behind them. Ethics and morality in general, you will soon learn are something that can vary widely even within one culture," his voice was one that held you captive without having to be raised. Toshiro liked it.

"Before anyone asks, yes, I am an adjunct," Ichigo said taking out a stack of syllabi from the messenger bag he had brought with him. "I have a degree in philosophy as well as a medical degree in pediatrics. So rest assured, I will be able to spot the bullshit." The rest of class was spent going over various assignments as well as class structure. Toshiro found himself surprised with how seriously the younger teacher took his class. There was even a paper that they were to spend the entire semester writing on a taboo subject that required the teacher's oversight during the writing process. Hitsugaya actually found himself wondering if this class might be worth some effort on his part.

* * *

"I want everyone's preliminary proposals on for the taboo paper next class," Ichigo reminded the class as they packed up for the night. The class was three hours long even with the break Ichigo had felt inclined to give, and that meant two things: they met twice a week as opposed to every other day, and they covered the material twice as fast. Not that Ichigo mined the pace. Medicine may have been his livelihood but philosophy was his hobby. He waited until everyone was out the door before locking it. He made it almost out the door before a shine of green caught his eye and he groaned. There was his stalker, sitting on the hood of his sour apple green corvette smoking what Ichigo knew was a clove cigarette. The man was handsome, almost shockingly so, with teal hair an exotic eyes, but was also the worst hook-up of Ichigo's life. He did not understand the word no. Sighing, Ichigo diverted into the bathroom, taking out his blackberry as he did.

"Yo, Ichi. What's up?" Renji's voice was like a breath of fresh air. He was one of Ichigo's best friends and the only one who knew about his stalker.

"He followed me to class," Ichigo stated flatly. Ichigo wasn't afraid of the other, not really. But he also knew that any confrontation between the two of them would end up with one of them in jail for attempted murder. It was the reason Ichigo had ended things, after all. The sex had been explosive, but the fights even more so. It had taken him trying to explain a shiner to one of his six year old patients for him to realize just how unhealthy their relationship really was.

"What's he doing?" Renji practically growled and Ichigo knew he was already looking for his keys.

"Smoking cigarettes and watching the front. You know he can't get in here without an ID," Ichigo said looking at his face in the mirror above the counter. He was surprised at the weariness he saw reflected there. Maybe it was time he followed Renji's advice and filed for a restraining order.

"I'll be there in two minutes," Renji said before the line went dead. Things were always like that between them. Neither one would say goodbye to the other, even over the phone. They had lost too many. He blew air out between his lips. There was no way he could keep this up much longer and he had a feeling Grimmjow knew that.

* * *

Toshiro felt glad, as he swiped the key to his room, that he had spent the extra grand and gotten a room to himself. Just the idea of having to deal with someone else in his personal space that much was enough to make him want to break something. He locked the door behind him and turned on the laptop sitting on his cherry-wood desk before pulling out his phone to check messages. He frowned as he found one from a longtime friend from his old neighborhood. It was unusual for her to call when she knew that Toshiro had class. He sat down on his white futon couch as he listened to the message.

" 'Shiro-niisama," Hinamori's soft voice was even quieter than normal. Five kinds of alarm bells starting ringing in his head. Something was wrong with his friend. "I know you're in class, so please forgive me, but I need someone to talk to and you're the only one that I trust with this. Can you meet me at that little café back home when you get this? Thanks." Toshiro grabbed his wallet and thanked God that the trains were still running for the night. The fact that he was still technically too young to drive was grating at the best of times, right now it was enough to drive him to distraction. Hinamori was one of the few friends he had made when he was young who he had kept. They had known each other since kindergarten, never mind that she was nowhere near his intellectual equal. Something had clicked between the two of them and that was it. So he willed the train to go faster as he wondered what could be so wrong that Hinamori had him coming back to the one place he wanted nothing to do with in the middle of the night.

* * *

The café Toshiro arrived at was really nothing more than a hole in the wall in a back alley. It held a small counter and maybe three other seats, seemingly crammed with stuff. Before Toshiro had been able to get into college this was their place of refuge and he guessed it still was. The older lady behind the counter nodded to him as he came in and took his seat in front of window across from where Hinamori was sitting. She was a lovely girl with dark black hair she kept up in Chinese bun and dark eyes. Everything about her conveyed the shyness she had, from the dark green turtleneck to the long grey skirt and boots she wore. Two steaming mugs of tea sat on the table; black for Toshiro and green for Hinamori. She smiled weakly as he sat, fiddling with her tea cup.

"How have you been, Toshiro-niisama?" she asked her voice shaking lightly as she spoke. Toshiro could feel something inside him break a little at how hard she was trying to act like nothing was wrong.

"Hinamori-imooto*," Toshiro said with a sigh as he grabbed her hand between the two of them. They had known each other for so long it was like they were family. In some ways they were all the family the other had. Hitsugaya's parents had no clue how to treat a genius child so they spent all their time out of the house rather than deal with the awkwardness and Hinamori lived by herself while her parents worked hard in America to send her to the best schools. "Tell me what's wrong." A crease appeared in the corners of her eyes at his words as she reached under the small table to dig for something in her purse. Whatever it was, she grabbed it like a lifeline.

"You're going to hate me," she whispered as she looked down at whatever was in her purse. She sounded so broken as she said it that Toshiro felt his anger wake up.

"Never, Momo*, never," he said reverting to her old nickname. She smiled slightly at its use and squeezed his hand tighter.

"Iampregnant," she said so fast and soft Toshiro was not certain of what he heard.

"What?" he asked almost feeling embarrassed at making her repeat whatever it was she had said. It was clear that it was what was causing her pain. She took a deep breath before looking him in the eye.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered the words. It was like someone had punched him in the gut. As far as he knew, she had not even been dating anyone. How could she be pregnant? It was clear from her distress though, that she was far from joking.

"Who's the father?" Toshiro asked thinking of all the ways that he was going to castrate whoever this boy was. Hinamori was delicate an it would be so very easy for someone to take advantage of the act that she had never really felt loved by anyone, but him. Especially since he was not there to protect her. He watched as her cheeks colored at the question.

"You have to promise not to tell," she demanded as she dropped whatever was in her purse and gripped his hand with both of her small ones. Toshiro frowned. His gut was telling him that there was something more to this, something that he was not going to like.

"Momo…," he said letting her know he did not like this. Her small hands were like vices as she looked at him. There was a steel in her gaze that was rare and not something he had ever been successful at resisting.

"Swear it," Hinamori demanded and Toshiro sighed.

"I swear it," the second the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. His words were his honor and regardless of who it was she told him, he would not be able to act like he knew.

"Aizen-sensei," she said not daring to look him in the face. Toshiro froze as his mind processed the name. He knew the man. He taught Social Studies where Hinamori went to school. He could remember her mentioning him on occasion, but never nothing to even hint at something like this. Hitsugaya felt his blood come to a boil for a split second before it froze. He was beyond mad, beyond loathing. He was so volatile he was actually cold. Whatever was on his face was clearly scaring Hinamori, but he could care less. _So_, a vague part of him noted, _this is what it is like to know that you're going to kill someone and to hell with the consequences. It's not all that bad._ Suddenly, he felt his cheek sting. He had been so intent of thinking of ways to kill and hide the body of Aizen he had missed Hinamori speaking. She had been forced to slap him. "I'm so sorry, nii-sama," she said quickly as he snapped his head back to look at her. "But you can't hurt him. I know it's wrong, that what we feel is not proper. But we love each other. Look," she dug in her purse frantically for a second before producing a ring. It was clearly expensive, the band made of white gold with a single purple sapphire. "It's a promise ring just until I get out of high school. He says he'll marry me then." Hearing the words and seeing the ring Toshiro couldn't help but briefly wonder if the other's intention were honorable. That was until he remembered that Aizen was a thirty something year old man and Hinamori was a sixteen year old girl, a sixteen year old _pregnant_ girl.

"Oh, Hinamori," he sighed and it was like opening a damn. She began sobbing, clutching the ring like it was a lifeline.

"You hate me, don't you," she said trying in vain to rub the tears away. Toshiro's eyes got the size of saucers. What the hell was she talking about? But the reasoning was forth coming out of her trembling lips and it was all Toshiro could do not to hunt down the man then and there. "That's what Aizen-sensei said would happen if I told anyone about us; that they would hate me. But I thought that you would be different." Hitsugaya stood and moved to take the trembling Hinamori in his arms. It was clear that Aizen had nothing but ill intentions for the one person he thought of as family.

"I don't hate you, Momo," he said into her hair as she seemed to collapse against him. "I hate that bastard. Don't you see what he's done to you? How he's lied to you? You need to think about the baby." Hinamori sobbed even louder at the mention of the child and Toshiro could feel his hate flare. He would see to it that Aizen got what was coming to him.

"Aizen-sensei would never lie to me," Hinamori whispered though it was clear that she was having trouble believe it herself. "He loves me."


End file.
